Deliberate
by megrim
Summary: //Oneshots on Niou Masaharu and Tachibana Ann// #5 Packrat: It’s the rat’s fault, she says to her landlord, whose eyes go wide in shock at the mention of rats in his building.
1. Brittle

**Title**: Brittle  
**Author**: Megrim  
**Word Count**: 311  
**Disclaimer**: The _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi  
**Warnings**: Hmm…Ann haters stay away?

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Never once in their five years of knowing the other had he thought of Tachibana Ann as fragile. Her eyes reminded him of glass at times but only of their coldness and never their brittleness, because just as he was a trickster she was stone.

Times changed though and there was one day that he thought her fragile because she truly _was_ glass that day. The rain only helped to wash out what remaining color was in her face and he could see the water threatening to escape from her eyes. She wouldn't cry in front of him, ever, even if it would only be mingled in the rain because she knew his eyes would see everything.

They were standing on a nondescript bridge overlooking a busy street and her back was to him when she said quietly, "If I said I was leaving, would you do something?" He wasn't surprised or sad or anything. He was numb and didn't answer, and she continued, "Would you care?"

His voice wasn't working right and he couldn't even bring himself to unclench his jaw. She turned around then with a bright, false smile shining on her face and said, "I'm sorry, then, Niou-kun" —she never called him that, not even when they had first met— "for wasting your time. I thought today would be a nice day too." He didn't miss the double meaning in her words or miss the tears that _did_ fall from her eyes as she left without a backwards glance.

Of the two of them neither had ever been called fragile. That day, she was—so, so easy to break like a porcelain doll and he'd done just that with his calloused hands—but personally he thought that of the two of them, he was weaker because porcelain could be put back together over time, and he never would.

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**AN**: The first of a series of oneshots revolving around Niou Masaharu and Tachibana Ann. About Ann's name, I prefer writing it as 'An', but then I get it confused with the _word_ 'an', so it's Ann for that reason. As always, hope you enjoyed it and hopefully the angst will tone down with the next few stories :)


	2. Curious

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**Title**: Curious  
**Author**: Megrim  
**Word** **Count**: 826  
**Disclaimer**: The _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi  
**Warnings**: Tachibana goes partially insane and abuse of parenthesis.

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Ann doesn't know she's infatuated until her brother—her _brother_—tells her so. She splutters and denies it (and god, is that a _blush_ she's fighting down? Because Tachibana Ann doesn't blush) but that doesn't stop him from giving her one of his knowing looks.

He never really tells her to get over it though because Kippei only suspects that it's a passing crush like the ones she's had on Chitose before (he still shudders thinking of the mess that had been) and lets life continue without any warnings from him. Of course the day that she declares loudly that she's _not_ going to Seigaku high school and following in his footsteps is the day that he thinks to himself, _'Oh god, what did I __**not**__ do?'_

Just like she had guessed her parents were fully supportive of the idea and she smiles on her last day in Tokyo at the house she's spent two years in, but still isn't home compared to Kyushu. Her brother and mother come with her to Kanagawa (her dad is working that day, and she's a bit glad because he doesn't need to see the glares she's getting from Kippei) and even against their best efforts their eyes go wide at the vast amount of land that Rikkai possesses. Ann isn't surprised, only happy that she's finally here (the funny thing is, she's almost forgotten about that embarrassing day when she's accused of liking _him_ of all people).

The principal himself comes out to meet them (apparently her grades had been far above the average back in Fudomine, but then in a school like that, what else had they expected?) and inquires to both her _and_ her brother if they'll consider joining the tennis team. Kippei laughs it off but still asks where the courts are and drags her off there, leaving their mother to deal with the paperwork undoubtedly linked with the principal's visit.

It turns out that they don't need the directions since the sounds of tennis balls leads them straight to the courts anyway, and Ann is in awe of the skill that hasn't diminished, only gotten better, over the past year. She sees the regulars from her second year in junior high and resists the urge to shrink behind her brother—and only manages it because he's already speaking with Yukimura and Sanada about their first high school national tournament. They see her immediately and only a stern look from Sanada keeps Yanagi from mumbling about the chances of this happening and Marui from throwing question after question at the girl who supposedly hated Rikkai so much.

Kirihara is missing from the group, Ann notices with some relief, but then her eyes instinctively go from each regular to another and then she's staring into the sharp golden eyes belonging to the person who'd intrigued her so much only a year ago.

She won't ever admit to her brother how grateful he is when they leave a few seconds later ("_They_ don't have to help their sister unpack," he grumbles and she laughs) and he won't ever admit to her how glad he is that he did because Niou's curious eyes on his sister (who honestly is a bit too pretty for her own good) isn't something he needs to see. _Ever,_ he adds.

Kippei has the strangest luck on earth though, because he's always right whenever he doesn't want to be, and it's proven two years to the day Ann first goes to Rikkai.

"…I'm…going out," he barely manages to say to the pair (god oh god, he'd _known _he was going to regret letting Ann go) and twitches all the way to the street tennis courts. The fact that his mother actually _approved _of Niou with his obviously bleached long hair (at least it isn't longer than Ann's anymore, though being at the same length wasn't helping the argument much) and devilish personality only served to make him feel sicker.

When Ann leaves a few hours later with her 'boyfriend'—he inwardly gags at the very _thought_—his mother says to him, "I think they look good together, right Kippei?"

He just stares at the woman who looks so innocent with a dishtowel in hand and wonders if it was possible for a son not to notice if his mother was insane or not. "No," he says flatly, "no, no, _no._"

"Oh, that's too bad." She smiles at him benignly and continues with the dishes. "Your father thinks highly of Niou-kun's family, even if the boy himself is a bit questionable."

'_And since when did the world go insane and care more about the family than the guy?' _he wants to scream but he refrains and simply shakes his head. '_This world is insane. Completely and utterly insane. And at the heart of this insane world is my sister.'_

Kippei wonders if this is his actual atonement for playing so recklessly all those years ago.

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**AN**: Barely any Niou to be honest, but hopefully plenty of Ann and Kippei. For future reference, almost all of these oneshots are in roughly the same timeline unless otherwise stated, so yeah, this happens before 'Brittle'. If there are mistakes please point them out since I'm on about three different meds right now (stupid swine flu is making everyone freak out and be overly cautious). As always, hope you enjoyed and thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited/alerted. (and what crack was I on to write Kubo Tite wrote PoT?)


	3. Hands

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**Title:** Hands  
**Author:** Megrim  
**Word Count:** 428  
**Disclaimer:** The _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi.  
**Warnings:** Marui's rather introspective in this one.

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It was a fact Marui noticed early on in the dynamic so-called 'relationship' his best friend and the new girl were in.

Not once, in the near year they'd been dating (if it could be called dating) had he seen them holding hands. Tachibana seemed like the sort of girl who'd enjoy prancing around hand in hand with her boyfriend and Niou was the type of guy who'd never let a girl get away with it, so in the beginning Marui didn't care much about it.

Still, a year was a long time. Long enough for people to grow apart, others to grow together, and for things to change.

They still weren't holding hands though.

Marui didn't really know why he cared so much – actually, he didn't really care at all; it was just…_weird_ for a guy and a girl to be in a relationship (and he still had trouble believing that Niou of all people could be in the _same_ one for a year) and not do the normal things a normal couple would do. In fact, he couldn't remember them _ever_ being in contact with each other. Part of it, he suspected, had to do with the fact that Niou hated to be touched by almost anyone other than his family or extremely close friends. The other part…he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

It still annoyed him.

He'd never dare to ask Niou though – best friends they were, even he wasn't close enough to him to ask that, and something told him he wouldn't get an answer anyway. Asking the girl – Ann, he thought it was – was probably pointless too.

So Marui spent some of his free seconds wondering of the enigma of Niou Masaharu and Tachibana Ann because honestly, they _weren't normal_. Hell, he even watched others' with their girlfriends or boyfriends, and compared to Niou and Ann, it was freaking _scandalous._ Not once, not _ever,_ did they do anything that could even be thought of PDA, and it was just plain _weird_ (it really was the only word he could use) for someone who was the farthest thing from chastity, to be like that.

In the end, Yukimura of all people had been the one to break everything down for him in words that he could've thought of on his own, but still made sense.

"He's Niou," Yukimura said simply. "Did you honestly think he'd do things normally?"

And in the end, Marui had no choice but to agree, because it was _Niou_, and no answer was more sufficient.

But it _still_ annoyed him.

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**AN**: Still no Niou, but Marui's in there; hopefully it makes up…somewhat. As always, hope you enjoyed it and drop a review :) (because I am a shameless review whore). And lastly, these oneshots are all related unless otherwise stated, but they jump around a lot, so this takes place sometime during Curious. (And apparently those meds work, because I successfully mixed up Kubo Tite with Konomi Takeshi…)


	4. Album

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**Title**: Album  
**Author**: Megrim  
**Word Count**: 1,248  
**Disclaimer**: The _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi.  
**Warnings**: Run-on sentences galore, a bit of emo-ness lurking about, overuse of 'he' and 'she'. Just really thoughtful, mostly.

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It's when she's unpacking her things from their boxes – that have surprisingly gathered a lot of dust for only being in there for a short time – that her fingers brush across a satin ribbon she can distinctly link with her grandmother's home in Kyushu and the smell of cookies baking in an oven nearly as archaic as the woman herself. Her lips twitch upwards in the first sort of smile she's felt for a while now, and she slowly pulls out the old discarded book given to her for her sixth birthday.

Just as she remembers it still has its bright pink color, only very vaguely dulled by time, and the glossy picture of a beaming five year old girl looks up at her through blue eyes that somehow seem brighter than the last time she'd spotted this old scrapbook. Her grandmother – an old fussy lady who dotes on her grandchildren so much it's a wonder Kippei hadn't turned out like Atobe – had spent nearly two months putting it together before her birthday and probably still has the paper cut scars to prove it. The pictures decorating the well-thumbed pages are ones she knows well; a few had even been taken by her judging by the pudgy fingers covering the lens.

There are doodles scrawled on the margins and inside the cover and she only barely holds back a laugh at the memory of him absently making lines here and dots there while he flipped through her old book of memories. She'd screeched at him so much that from the mirror in the corner of her old room she could almost literally see horns poking through her flat brown hair and steam billowing from her nostrils. Now, now it seems almost melancholic to even think about that even though the book has so many good memories – so many _older_ memories. Looking at it now, all she can think about is him and the day he found this little book and how everything seemed to spiral down in a whirlpool whose end she could not even begin to grasp.

The rain was falling that day in a manner reminiscent of the lullabies her mother used to sing to her. For once practice was canceled, if only because Kirihara needed all the help he could get to pass English, and he was sprawled across her bed in a way that would've had them packing their bags if anyone had cared to check on them (amazingly she remained without a roommate for the two years she was in school with him but she doubts it was a coincidence). Her head was bent over the desk and her fingers switched from grabbing a pencil or hovering over the calculator.

"I thought," she grumbled, "the point of you coming was to _help_."

"I am," he said vaguely and she heard the sound of a page turning. "The fact that you can talk means you're practically done."

She glanced at the page or so of math problems left and thought dryly, _I'm only going faster because I want to save my poor book from mutilation_. There was a faint sound of amusement from him and she resisted the urge to chuck the pencil at his head (she feared what would happen to her book if he was armed with lead).

"What are you looking at?" she asked not two minutes later, setting her pencil down and glaring at a half-finished problem. "It's not the baby one, is it?"

When he answered his voice was just a bit different – lower, maybe? Or pitched differently? – but she just pegged it as the result of practicing in the rain everyday for a week. "There's a girl in a sundress," he said. "'Course, that could be your brother – both of you guys were blond back then, weren't you?"

She shrugged and twirled the pencil around and around, ignoring the jab at her brother. "I switched his shampoo with dye once. My hair just darkened, I guess. It's not like it's that dark to begin with." The pencil abruptly stopped. "Speaking of hair, you never did tell me why you bleach yours."

It wasn't really a shock when he didn't bother answering her but she still furrowed her brows, jaw clenched to bite back the retort she so dearly wanted to say. She wanted to stomp her feet and screech _it isn't fair_ and throw a tantrum rivaling those she'd been famous for in her toddler years. He knew everything there was to know about her – and probably then some, because his eyes never missed a thing and sometimes they quite terrified her – but it wasn't balanced because she could barely recall his favorite color at times and only knew the vaguest of things about anything outside of Rikkai. But then, it made sense, she thought as she cooled down – just as he'd been waiting for her to do, no doubt – because Rikkai was his life.

Knowing that didn't stop her from muttering, "Conniving sewer rat." (It really was funny how her insults went from gutter words to these more sophisticated ones, but sometimes it was as if she'd downgraded instead.)

He laughed lowly – if it was even a laugh, because he actually didn't laugh that often – and propped his head on his palm, eyes searching her face – and she felt it again, that feeling of being laid bare before him like she did every time he looked her in the eye. "I'll tell you," he finally said, "when you're older." And then he returned to the album and for an instant she was distracted by the pen in his hands, but then it was gone, vanished and she blinked a few times before her mind caught up.

"Wait…did you honestly just say that? You were _twelve_ when you bleached your hair!"

"Eleven and a half," he corrected. "And a hell of a lot more mature than you."

This time her control failed her and then she was off, like a whirlwind, red-faced with bright eyes. There was only amusement in his and a hint of something else that she didn't really want to identify.

Her hand smoothes the corner of an aged picture, ironically the same one that he'd thought was her brother in a dress. Funnily enough it _is_ a boy in a dress but one of their old friends from Kyushu who she forced into the dress one day, and she laughs thinking about it. There are words written in his handwriting – surprisingly neat, unlike what one would expect from him – and she has to marvel at his audacity because he wrote it on the actual picture rather than the plastic covering – _All to annoy me more,_ she muses.

Ann doesn't think for an instant that she understands Niou Masaharu. But, she's a bit better than most because at least she can vaguely get a grasp on what he was thinking in hindsight. Like now – it's so insignificant, this little book of hers, and yet _now_ she realizes it had been enough for him to begin prodding at things that weren't meant to be touched.

_His problem was – still is, actually,_ she thinks as she closes the book firmly and puts it in the last drawer, _that he recognizes when to stop but doesn't bother to._ She knows that – but it didn't stop her from staying with him, because just being with him pushed her onto a pedestal so high it wasn't a surprise she fell.

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**AN**: I'm being reminded of a tragedy for some reason (but then I was watching Romeo + Juliet the other day). Hopefully the next chapter (whose title will most likely be 'rattlesnake' – think what you want) will be up on the 19th or 20th. And out of curiosity, has anyone else been kicked out of the Taj Mahal in Atlantic City? I got in for an hour and then out. T.T (and I wasn't even gambling…) Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it ^^


	5. Packrat

**Title**: Packrat**  
Author**: Megrim**  
Word Count**: 776**  
Disclaimer**: The _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi**  
Warnings**: Paper cuts?

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Ann doesn't consider herself a packrat. That box in the corner of her closet _isn't_ a box of useless crap, she tells Niou grumpily one day, but rather a box filled with sentimental value and things that he would never understand being the single celled organism he is.

Unsurprisingly he scoffs and pulls out the box, ignoring her squawks of how he's deliberately invading her privacy _again_ (like she hasn't given him the riot act a thousand times already). It's just a normal cardboard box with the edges so dulled by time that they bend inwards if he so much as puts a finger on them but something about it makes him pause for a second, brow furrowing. It takes a second for him to realize it's the _smell_ coming from it that's making him confused, but it isn't necessarily a bad smell either.

He can't really describe what it smells like, only that it feels archaic and gives off the feeling that _hey, maybe this is something special_. When Ann gives him a weird look and asks him if she can snatch her box back, thank you very much, he grins cheekily at her and opens it.

What's inside isn't surprising – it's just a memory box, he realizes, filled with aged photos and letters whose ink has run dry. There's an old keychain here, with the figure of a girl, and the lens of a pair of glasses that has hairline cracks running along the edges over there. Beside him, Ann huffs and leaves the room, muttering about how she needs to get rat repellent or something to deal with the infestation. His lips twitch upwards – she's always, always called him a sewer rat for some unexplainable reason – and he starts shifting through the odds and ends she's collected over the years.

The teakettle's shrill whistle tells him that Ann will be back soon so he hurries and manages to get a paper cut from a scrap of paper shoved underneath the box's inside fold. It isn't a small piece of paper, he sees, but a large one that has been folded over and over again. He slowly unfurls it, watching as words appear in all different handwritings and colors.

It's all Ann's handwriting, actually, he finds after a few moments, just her at different ages. One is so grammatically incorrect that he guesses she couldn't have been older than five, and another is as recent as sometime last year. The actual content is what manages to raise his eyebrows.

There are plans of how to get from Virginia in the States to New York and the bus fare and plane fare, along with stops along the way to see famous monuments – even the hotel costs are written in red ink beside her childish handwriting. Along the side there are several job listings, many crossed out and other circled, with housing next to every circled job. Some things he can't even decipher – the writing is so blurred or scratched out so many times that it's gone through to the other side of the paper – and others are so clear that he's laughing slightly.

Ann walks back into the room with a cup of tea in hand to see him sniggering over the paper – which has 'My Life Plan' written in bold along the top – and flushes darkly. She has enough sense to set down the tea before snatching it from him, giving him another paper cut, before beginning her tirade; she can't scream at him anymore because of complaints from the neighbors and has to settle for putting as much venom as she can into her words.

Niou just laughs and asks if she's still planning to go to the States – there hasn't been any writing for a good year now, he says, is there a reason for that?

I grew out of it, she grumbles in reply, shoving the box back into its place in the closet where it'll gather dust for another few decades. She refrains from bringing it back out and chucking it at his head when he laughs again and says that she must have gotten _very_ mature in the past year to have grown out of it after mooning over it for so long.

The neighbors complain again, later that night, about the murderous profanities slipping from her mouth and the thumping of feet from her apartment. It's not _her_ fault that Niou insists on still playing tennis, or her fault that she still can't catch him. It's the rat's fault, she says to her landlord, whose eyes go wide in shock at the mention of rats in his building.

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**AN**: I'm laughing at the image of a five year old An with a crayon in hand writing that plan, her tongue sticking out and everything. I dunno. It sounds funny ^^ Hope you enjoyed, and blame the late update on my immune system (which has apparently left me defenseless this year). And two people (you know who you are *points*) for putting an AU idea into my head… It's not leaving now. T__T And last thing (promise, promise) check out my profile for a PoT forum if you're interested ^^


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